First Contacts
by Imperator Rex
Summary: First contacts are not just galaxy shaking diplomatic meetings and the occasional war, they happen to everyone. The following is a collection of one shot stories of ordinary people encountering strange new aliens and their civilisations. Updates will be random.
1. The Film Festival

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Illaria Kysi was looking forward to her day off. The Asari Matron had been working on the Citadel for nearly a century but the last few months had been more frenetic than she had ever known. The reason for this was the latest addition to the known galaxy; Humanity. A first contact scenario could be complicated enough but the Turians had chosen to make it ten times worse by deciding that the best first impression would be from the barrel of a gun.

Still the worst was over, a peace treaty was signed and the humans had set up an embassy on the Citadel. Of course that still left a small mountain of paperwork for Illaria's office but at least they didn't have to worry about an unknown alien race invading the galaxy. As it was the humans were trying to be diplomatic. They had set up an exhibition showing off their culture in one of the wards. Honestly Illaria was impressed by the gesture; it was a clever way to counter all the media inspired anti human hysteria that the news networks had been broadcasting for months.

Feeling as curious as a giddy young maiden the Asari decided that she would see this exhibition for herself, and she was not going alone. A human from their embassy, a male called Stephen offered to act as an unofficial tour guide. He was very nice, she thought, and rather easy on the eyes. In truth, she had been trying to think of a way to stroke his hair for almost a week now. The only thing she did not like about him was his rather strange, and at times downright sadistic, sense of humour. Whether that was a human trait or just an individual one she did not know.

They both agreed that the first stop would be the cinema. They passed various stalls selling merchandise, including a number mentioning a human festival called Easter, which was celebrated around this time every year in the Human calendar. Stephen tried explaining it to her, but what edible eggs had to do with a human getting brutally executed was just confusing.

When they reached the cinema, the Illaria grinned. She had been an avid film watcher since childhood and now she would get a chance to see the works of an entirely new species. There was a long list of titles on the screen, with a brief synopsis of each when you highlighted them.

"You choose," she said, "what do you think would be good for my first ever human film?"

Stephen looked through the list, then found one his all time favourites.

"This one, defiantly, it's a classic."

Illaria looked at the title; he did not highlight it.

" _Alien_ ," she read "what's it about?"

"It's first contact story, of sorts." Stephen smiled, "Best not to read the description, the less you know the more you will enjoy."

"A first contact story, really?"

Illaria was intrigued. There had been quite a few Asari films made about that idea before their actual first contact. Most of them were fairly ridiculous, the 'aliens' tended to just be Asari painted a different colour with prosthetic foreheads, or puppets if it was for a younger audience. Most of the plotlines also tended to be the same. It was this reason that lead Illaria to ask the question that she would kick herself for later.

"Is it a romantic comedy?"

Stephen looked stunned for a moment. At the time Illaria assumed it was because she'd guessed correctly. Then he smiled.

"Yes... yes it is"

"Oh good," said Illaria, then she looked at the age rating. "Adults only, I hope that means there's lots of sex in it."

Stephen made a very strange coughing sound.

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One hundred and seventeen minutes later Illaria left the cinema, feeling like she was about to throw up.

Moreover, the monster she was with was laughing his stupid head off.

"Oh come on!" he eventually said. "It wasn't that bad."

She would have gladly killed him now if it were not for the fact that she really did not want to be alone right now.

"NOT THAT BAD?" the high ranking administrator squealed, "IS THAT YOUR IDEA OF A JOKE!?"

She was already getting flashbacks. It started off well enough in a grimy, slow sort of way then...then it went badly.

"The egg, then that thing came out of it..."

"That 'thing' is affectionately known as a Facehugger," Stephen cheerfully added.

The Asari stared.

"Who in their right mind would call it... no, never mind. Are all you humans this masochistic with your so-called entertainment?"

"The other people in the theatre didn't seem to mind."

That was true enough. The young Salarian with the broken horn who sat next to them seemed to find the biology fascinating. Illaria was almost certain she heard the words 'feasibility study', which gave her terror a completely new angle. As for the Krogan sitting behind them (in between loudly slurping his drink and munching on a bucket of something called 'pop-corn') he loudly exclaimed that he had seen worse back home. Hopefully that was just bravado, hopefully.

"That Salarian was insane and the Krogan... was, well being a Krogan." Illari shot back, "And even they jumped when that other thing-"

"That's called a 'chestburster', just for the record."

"Oh _thank you_ , that helps _so_ much. I am never having children now, just so you know. Then it runs off and grows even more horrifying."

"Well babies always grow up, besides it adds to the climax. You enjoyed one bit of that at least."

She glared at him. "One pair of revealing panties does not _nearly_ make up for that collection of nightmares!"

"Okay, okay," said the man who was trying to stop smiling. "I'm sorry."

"You better be," she snapped. "I'm not going to be able to sleep for a week!"

"Alright, let me buy you a drink as an apology, come on."

The traumatised Asari nodded grudgingly, a stiff drink did seem like a good idea. As they passed the souvenir stall however Illaria's fear, which had been beginning to settle, turned into a near hysterical panic attack.

Stephen other the other hand looked at the wares in awe.

"Wow! Facehugger Easter eggs! They look so realistic!"

As for the hyperventilating Asari, she couldn't help but think that they should have let the Turians finish the job.

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	2. Scrap Metal

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 _Hello everyone, Glad so many of you enjoyed the last chapter, and liked the concept itself. Sorry this one took so long, real life got in the way. Anyway, enjoy and rest assured I have a few more ideas up my sleeve._

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Jalla' Camis nar Qwib Qwib stared morosely at the grounded ship before her. She had heard all the stories about pilgrimages that went wrong. Quarians getting themselves killed or shipped off as slaves, every young pilgrim had the same dire warnings. However being grounded on a minor colony because of ship malfunctions was too mundane for anyone to really think about. The stupid thing was the ship would have been fine if the crew had just listened to her in the first place. But that stuck up Asari Captain didn't want a Quarian anywhere near the engines of her first ever ship (paid for by her rich mother of course) because it was _hers_ and she knew exactly what she was doing. She did not need some suit rat's opinion, even though that was supposed to be what Jalla had been hired for.

As for the colony itself, well it was difficult not to be jumpy. Less than a year ago every eye in the galaxy was focused on this otherwise unremarkable planet. But Shanxi had survived, battered and scarred as it was, and these humans were rebuilding. But some things could not be so easily fixed and the humans, here at least, looked upon any outsider with barely concealed hostility. Well, Jalla thought with a scowl, not every non-human was unwelcome. The rest of her 'shipmates', for lack of a better term, were certainly making themselves very at home. But of course young, wild, up for anything Asari maidens were always popular with every species. As for Jalla she felt quite alone, almost certainly the first Quarian ever to visit this world. A member of a species that were already universally looked down upon, trapped on a planet with unfamiliar hostile aliens...Jalla was glad she always carried her wrenches. As self-defence went, they were cheaper than guns and far easier to aim.

Jalla's sobering train of thought was interrupted the rumble of her stomach. That at least was not something she needed to worry about. Quarian rations were hard to come outside the fleet so stockpiling was a necessity. She had enough to last her for months. It was as she headed back to her quarters that she saw the poster. Translation programs were always imperfect, especially with brand new languages but she checked and checked again there was no mistake. It was the most bizarre thing the young Quarian had ever seen.

SHANXI ROBOT WARS!

BUILD YOUR OWN BOTS AND WATCH THEM FIGTH!

CASH PRIZES AND QUALIFICATION TO THE GRAND TOURNAMENT!

Below was a long list of rules and criteria, as well as pictures of previous winning robots in various states of disrepair.

After reading the poster Jalla's mind began to turn. It was such a strange idea. Using perfectly good resources for such a frivolous reason would be inconceivable back on the fleet. Nevertheless, these humans had enough metal and electronics around to make machines purely for entertainment, and with a presumably high likelihood of irreparable damage being caused. In addition, they were offering cash prizes...she could work with that.

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The rather gruff looking old human stared at her as she approached the desk. Her nerves held, just. She could do this.

"Er...hello, sir. I'd like to apply for the contest."

He stared at her for the longest time, was he going to refuse?

"You're not one of them Asari are you?"

"No sir, I am a Quarian."

"Never heard of 'em."

She sighed, "That's not so surprising."

"Well...as to the contest...there's no rule that says you can't I suppose." He then scowled and rubbed the stump where his arm used to be. "And you're no fucking Turian at least... you've read the rules?"

Jalla nodded.

"We begin in a week."

"Thank you", she said rather breathlessly, her relief palpable.

"Yes, well, that's what I'm here for."

Jalla half wanted to run before the human changed his mind but she had one more question.

"Where could I get materials?"

He gaped at her.

"You haven't built your machine yet? But you've only got a week!"

Behind her mask the young girl smirked.

"That will be fine, as long as I have the metal."

"Well, the only real scrap around here is from downed Turian ships."

Turian warships? The Human was actually suggesting using military grade materials for a simple contest? Jalla did not know whether to envy their abundance of resources or pity her poor competitors. Either way her mind went into overdrive at the possibilities.

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LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! WELCOME, TO THE 10TH ANNUAL SHANXI ROBOT WARS!

The announcer was almost deafeningly loud, but Jalla appreciated the distraction. Had she remembered everything? That wire connection was still a little loose if only she had a minute or two...

TONIGHT WE BEGIN OUR FIRST ROUND MATCHES! THE WINNERS WILL MOVE ONE STEP FURTHER TO THE GRAND FINAL ON EARTH! WHILE THE LOSERS WILL BE ELIMINATED!

The roars of approval came from all sides of the square arena, humans of all shapes and sizes were here. There were of lot of children here Jalla noted, often with colourful banners and, for some strange reason, giant pointing hands made of some sort of foam.

NOW, BEFORE WE SEE METAL FLY LETS MEET OUR ASPIRING CHAMPIONS!

A female with a microphone went down the line, asking questions to each of the teams, Jalla glumly noted she was the only one on her own. The human was getting closer and closer to her, what on Rannoch was she supposed to say? Jalla hadn't spoken to anyone backstage; she had mostly just been stared at.

"And now we meet our newest competitor. Our first ever non human..."

The crowd was murmuring; there were a few boos and hisses. Jalla felt herself tense but there was no way to back out now.

"...Jalla Carnis!"

She waved at the crowd, the murmuring died down a little. It seemed they at least wanted to hear her out.

"So, Jalla, am I saying that right? What brings you to Shanxi?"

Now the silence was absolute.

"Well," stammered the Quarian. "To be honest I only arrived here by accident when the ship I was on was grounded..."

"She's from that ship of home wrecking blue bitches!" screamed one woman who seemed unable to stand up properly. The bouncers quietly escorted her out.

"Um, yes," Jalla tried to get back on track. "So I saw the poster for this and decided to try."

Her interviewer looked confused.

"But that means you built your machine in a week."

"Um, well, yes."

There was more murmuring, and not just in the crowd. The other teams spoke amongst themselves, some looked confused, others rather smug.

"I'm sure I'm not the only one who is wondering how you managed this," said the interviewer, "Did you have any help?"

"No"

"How much money did you have?"

"None"

The talking got louder. The interviewer had to wait almost a full minute before she could continue.

"But...then how did you manage to build your machine?"

"Well I had my tools already and the materials came from that crashed Turian transport ship outside the colony."

"Wait a minute; you used the Turian ship?"

Jalla was beginning to wonder if she had made a horrible mistake, but she answered all the same.

"Yes, but it wasn't ideal. Turian vessels always have some serious design flaws that I had to work around."

"Well, we certainly noticed those flaws," replied the interviewer, smiling with a slightly vicious look on her face.

Some in the crowd laughed. Jalla looked round. Apparently mocking the Turians was the way to acceptance here. She could defiantely work with that.

"Ok, last question; what have you called your machine?"

Jalla smiled softly and turned to her creation. It was designed to withstand any close combat weapons. The small biotic shield worked perfectly and the missile launcher had been tested thoroughly. Naturally it was painted in her home ship's traditional colour; bright Fuchsia.

"I named it after the ship I was born and grew up on; The Wrath of the Qwib Qwib."

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The two elderly Admirals looked over the balcony at the off duty crew (and quite possibly some who were supposed to be working) who were staring at the communal screen.

"I don't get it"

"I know"

"We have been teaching our people not to waste resources for centuries and now the most wasteful pilgrim in our history is cheered throughout the fleet."

"Surely it's not so strange; an ordinary Quarian girl travels to a strange new part of the galaxy and ends up a celebrity. We couldn't have asked for a better ambassador."

"She is hardly universally loved by these humans."

"True, but those that hate her are largely dismissed. Her own modesty and politeness have further helped marginalise such attitudes."

"You've heard some of the...ideas coming from the civilians."

"Yes... but it's not such a bad suggestion."

A thunderous cheer from the floor below them interrupted the Admiral's conversation.

"...AND IT'S ALL OVER! THE WRATH OF THE QWIB QWIB CAME FOR NOWHERE TO WIN THE GRAND CHAMPIONSHIP! THE CREW OF WAR BARSTARD MAY BE CRYING THAT IT'S NOT FAIR BUT ALL IS FAIR IN LOVE AND ROBOT WARS! JALLA CARNIS, THE FIRST EVER ALIEN CONTESTANT HAS WON AND SHE IS BOUNCING UP AND DOWN IN CELEBRATION..."

"Well" said the second Admiral, trying to be heard over the cheers, screaming and applause coming from the deck. "Young Jalla will have her pick of ships when she returns."

"If she returns," Grumbled the other, "I would not be surprised if she decides to stay on Earth as a Human pet."

"Oh I hardly think that's likely, she must be aware of the homecoming she'll receive from all of the fan mail and well wishes."

"A waste of resources and a waste of time! And as for getting our children to build machines as part of their schooling..."

"It will teach ingenuity and unorthodox thinking. Who knows what new ideas might come from such competitions? On my own ship young Xen is already testing weapon designs she has seen against Geth armour."

"A complete dead end and an utterly absurd pipe dream!"

"Maybe, but even if it is when was the last time you've seen so many of our people watching a pirated broadcast and cheering for one of their own? Rumour is that the Salarians will soon be making their own version and we will be quietly squeezed out of entering. Let us enjoy this victory while it lasts. At least until we can set up our own tournament."

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	3. Classical Games

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Primus Alderus was bored. He had been bored ever since he moved here. His father was of course very happy with his promotion. There had been quite a few promotions of late; the Hierarchy had had something of a shakeup since the Relay 314 incident. Heads had metaphorically rolled (and literally if the rumours were to be believed) within the Hierarchy. As a result Primus and his father had left Palaven for the Citadel.

He hated it here. The house was nice enough but school was terrible. His classmates were predominantly Asari or Salarians and he had nothing in common with them. He missed his old friends, even talking and gaming with them was all but impossible thanks to the damn time differences.

The young Turian sighed and looked for a distraction from this depressing train of thought. He went over to his desk and logged onto the extranet. The usual games were all there but Primus did not feel like playing them, it would not be the same.

Then he noticed all the new titles. That was strange, he had not heard about any new games coming out, never mind this vast new selection. The titles looked a little odd, as thought there were translated, Salarian perhaps? Their tech companies were always a bit paranoid about new developments; fear of corporate espionage always outweighed good publicity worries. But the usual Salarian logos where nowhere to be seen, so where did they come from? Perplexed Primus looked on the news section; he had been out of the loop for a few days. And just like that the mystery was solved.

These were _human_ games.

Dare he play them? His father would not approve of course. But there again his father had moved them to the Citadel without his approval. In any case, he would probably never know. If he did, well what could be more proper than learning about a new alien culture? With these rationalisations made, the young Turian began exploring.

After reading past the headlines Primus learned that these were old or 'classical games' as the site described them. After scrolling though the oldest ones, which looked very simplistic and quickly looking up what a 'Sonic Hedgehog' was (which raised far more questions than answers) he found one that sounded appealing.

"Rome Total War," Primus murmured to himself "I've no idea what a 'Rome' is but the Total War part sounds good."

Rome, as it quickly became apparent, was a place on Earth, which had built an empire at some point in human history.

"Must have been quite early, they don't even have guns."

Instead, as he watched the opening cut scene the Turian noted the walled settlements and that the armies fought with primitive close combat weapons. They also rode upon strange four creatures, one of which looked like a giant Elcor with an absurdly long nose.

As Primus began playing the tutorial the one thing that really took him by surprise were the names. Roman names were remarkably similar to Turian ones, a few were Turian names. It was only after he thoroughly checked the language setting that he acknowledged that it was not some strange translation issue. This ancient human civilisation had, by pure coincidence, names that were uncannily like those of modern Turians. Primus vaguely wondered if these Romans were still around in some form or another.

Apart from that bizarre circumstance, the game was a good one. Fighting battles with his Roman Army was easy enough to learn and they seemed to far more ordered than the 'Gauls' they were fighting, who reminded him a little of Krogan. Once the battle was done Primus moved onto the Campaign map and faithfully followed the advice on building and expanding his Empire across the oddly boot shaped map. Within the hour Primus finished the tutorial and began his first real campaign. It was on a far larger map and he had the choice of three Roman factions. He picked the red Julii faction he fought with in the tutorial and began a short Campaign...

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A week later Primus found himself facing his first multiplayer campaign. The other players were a friendly enough bunch. The majority were naturally human but there were a few others. In particular the incredibly foul mouthed Asari bartender leading the Britons, who began the game by loudly proclaiming that she'd be painting the map blue to match her azure. Primus had even managed to rope in one of his classmates; a Salarian named Lerorth who, favouring hit and run tactics, took command of the Parthians. Primus having spent virtually all his spare playing through every major faction chose his old favourites the Julii once more.

 _Just one more turn_ thought Primus. The Gauls were down to their last settlement. The human playing them had put up a damn good fight but he had been fighting enemies on all sides from the start. Now Primus' well-organised Legion's were at the gates, one more turn and he could breach the walls. He pressed the end turn and waited.

DEFEAT

The message popped up and Primus gaped, he had been so close.

"Oh typical, the totally a-historical Egyptians have done it again," grumbled one of the human players.

"One more turn and I would have won!" exclaimed a frustrated Primus.

"Same here buddy," replied a human playing one of the other Roman factions.

"I'm just glad I made to the end," decided Lerorth. "Those chariots are lethal!"

"New game, same time next week?"

"Yes"

"Defiantely"

"Absolutely"

"With light-hearted bravado: I look forward to trampling you all with my war elephants next time."

Primus grinned; he would be looking forward to it.

"Indeed" replied the winner, "This one is most gratified to have won. And this one now requests that you all bow to your new Pharaoh!"

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	4. Trick or Treat

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Strogor Vrax drank his third tankard of Absinth of the evening as he kicked back and relaxed after a long day. It did not have the same kick as a good shot of Ryncol but it was the best he could find in this place. New York, it was supposed to be one of the great Human cities but the Krogan had yet to find a good drink here.

Humans... soft like all the other races. At first, Strogor thought the humans might have a bit more backbone than the other species. They fought the Turians after all and they had a city called _New_ York. Obviously, it implied that the old York had been conquered, sacked, burnt down and rebuilt over the ruins, just like any good Krogan settlement. But no, the Humans made peace with the Turians and Old York, or rather York, still existed. It was smaller and on another continent for some reason, but he did not care enough to look into why.

The final damning proof of these Humans' weakness was why he was here. It seems the humans, like so many others, decided that the best kind of bodyguard was a Krogan bodyguard. So the word went out, every politician, businessperson and celebrity were all clamouring to outdo each other with the biggest, toughest, meanest looking Krogan they could get to show off to their friends and intimidate their rivals. According to a news report Strogor had overheard Krogan were now, one year after the armistice, the second biggest group of aliens on Earth, after the Asari. It seemed there was no shortage of Humans needing Krogan, or wanting Asari. Strogor could only grimace at that, the galaxy was so predictable.

Naturally, his own client was some sleazy politician that he was employed to shadow and listen to every tired, cliché-ridden speech. He was not even under threat; it had been two months and there hadn't been a single assassination attempt. What kind of political system had no violence or murder in it? It was needlessly complicated and downright unnatural in the Krogan's opinion. On the other hand, perhaps his employer just was not worth killing, which would explain a lot.

Still, the pay was good enough to put up with the boredom and the living quarters he was given were very comfortable, if a bit fragile. Most of the furniture was already broken and Strogor's own tankard was the only thing left to drink out of. As the last surviving chair groaned under his presence, the Krogan began idly flicked channels to find something to watch.

Then the doorbell rang.

"What a stupid invention," grumbled the Krogan, "they should just bang on the door."

He opened the door, expecting some human in a suit telling him he was needed somewhere or other. Instead, he found a group of human hatchlings, and, despite Strogor not exactly being an expert on fashion, they seemed to be dressed very strangely. He was about to ask what they wanted, when they stared at him, screamed and ran away.

"Well that was weird."

With that, the Krogan closed the door and sat back down, but he did not stay there for long.

Within ten minutes Strogor heard the doorbell ring again, groaning he answered and found more hatchlings in even stranger dress than the last lot, only these ones did not run.

"Trick or treat," said one hatching. A male, if Strogor guessed correctly, who seemed to be wearing a black cloak and cowl with pointed ears. He was holding a little orange basket out as though he was expecting something.

Another male, also holding a basket and wearing something that looked like human bone structure seemed to be about to say the same thing but then looked up at him, stopped, and said-

"That's a really good costume mister; did your mom make it for you?"

"My armour was constructed by my clan's War-Smith after I passed my trial three centuries ago."

"Er ...Jack I don't think that's a costume," said the group's female. She was taller than the other two, which presumably meant she was older and in charge. She was all in black and had an oddly pointy hat. She turned to the Krogan looking apologetic.

"Sorry we've never seen a real life Krogan before. We didn't mean to bother you we were just trick or treating."

"What's 'trick or treating'?" asked the confused Krogan.

"It's what we do on Halloween!" said the youngest male, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Right...what's Halloween?"

"You don't have Halloween?!" asked the little male, clearly aghast at the idea.

"It's when we dress up in scary costumes and go round peoples' homes asking for candy," said the female, with a slightly know it all tone. "Didn't you see all the decorations?"

Strogor thought about it for a moment.

"You mean all that black and orange stuff? I thought those were your clan colours. Besides," he added pointing at them, "your costumes aren't very scary."

"Yes they are!" cried the smallest male pouting in indignation.

The Krogan snorted, "Next time try dressing as a Thresher Maw or a pack of starving Varren."

"They don't sound very scary!" the little human exclaimed. "I bet I could scare them off easily." He flailed his scrawny arms for emphasis.

Strogor stared at the insolent little hatching for a moment, and then laughed.

"And just when I was starting to think your species were completely spineless, Ha!"

The children just looked confused.

"Alright then," decided Strogor, "So I'm supposed to give you candy? What if I don't have any?"

He had tried some Human 'candy' but it was far too sugary for his taste. Like any sane Krogan his diet mostly consisted of Meat and Booze.

"Well then we get to trick you!"

The Krogan's hand drifted towards his knife and glared.

"You wouldn't dare!"

"It doesn't have to be candy," said the older female trying not to sound too disappointed. "As long as it's something sweet...and not fruit!" She added angrily.

"Hmm something sweet," murmured Strogor, "wait here."

The Krogan trudged over to what was left of his kitchen. He found the small basket he was looking for. The 'welcome basket' had come from the human agent who hired him and had been full of food and drink, most of it was tolerable, but one thing had been left.

"Here you go," said Strogor giving the female a bottle of wine.

She gave him a look.

"We're not supposed to have alcohol."

"There's hardly any alcohol in it," said the Krogan. "Anyway that's the only sweet thing I've got; take or leave it."

The three little humans looked at each other and shrugged.

"Thank you," they said in unison

"You'll have to fight for dominance to decide who gets it of course," added Strogor.

"Why can't we share it?" asked the youngest.

"Well you could, I guess," Strogor did not understand aliens at all. "Enjoy it however you like."

The girl still looked a bit dubious, but her mother had told her before going out to always be polite.

"Thank you for the treat sir, happy Halloween!"

"Goodbye Mister Krogan!" chorused the males.

Strogor nodded and watched them leave.

"Humans are weird," he decided, "but at least their hatchings have got quads."

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"Back already? Did you have a good evening? And did you remember to thank everyone?"

All three of the children said 'yes' knowing full well that that question was coming. Their mother smiled and looked up.

Then she noticed the bottle.

"Where **_on earth_** did you get that?"

"We got from the Krogan downstairs," answered the youngest. "He said it was the only thing he could give." And added in a stage whisper, "He didn't even know what trick or treating was."

"David! Do you see this?"

"What my dear?"

"Your children have just been given a bottle of wine for Halloween! I knew we should have gone with them."

"Wine you say? Is a good vintage?"

She gave her husband a withering look.

"David I'm being serious!"

"And so am I darling, but if what I just heard is true then the Krogan gentleman didn't know what Halloween was. It seems to have been an honest mistake."

"It's true he didn't," chimed in their youngest.

"Well... I suppose," she sighed, "Anyway it's time for bed you lot. Your stashes will be safe until tomorrow."

Inevitably, the conversation resumed after the children were sent to bed.

"But I mean really David, what should we do?"

"Nothing," he replied "there was no harm done and it was the thought that counted."

"But-"

"Besides it is a very good vintage. I say we get a couple of glasses and celebrate Halloween ourselves, just like we used to at college." Then an idea hit him.

"Why are you smiling?"

"Do you still have that slutty witch costume?"

His wife looked a little surprised at the sudden change in topic and the thoroughly dirty smirk on his face, but then she smiled coyly.

"...Maybe"

"I'll get the glasses."

The next day Strogor found a thank you note with a bottle of whisky outside his apartment. Halloween now confused him more than ever.

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	5. Inconspicuous

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 **Accessing Special Tasks Group File Archive...**

 **Access successful.**

 **Please search for a file.**

 **Searching...**

 **File located. Clearance level required- BASIC**

 **Password Required**

 **P*******1**

 **Password Accepted.**

 **Opening File...**

 **Operation Bronze**

In accordance with standard first contact protocols (See Operation Blue, Operation Pink, Operation Grey and so on) the Special Tasks Group, henceforth referred to as STG, commenced information retrieval and threat assessment of the newly discovered species Humanity. The initial plan called for hacking into Human cyberspace, locally known as the 'Internet'. While breaking into their systems was, as one senior analyst glibly put it 'so easy a Vorcha could've done it' **(technical details on Operation restricted)** the sheer volume of data, built up from over a century of constant use with little or no centralised oversight meant that useful or current information was well hidden behind a mountain of speculations, opinions, videos of human pets, pornography and otherwise useless information. Greater context was required.

Following this assessment members of the government and STG **(Names** **Censored)** decided a more direct approach was required; a visitation of the human home world.

Fortunately, the atmosphere of 'Earth', as the Humans called it, proved perfectly compatible with our own people and most of our technology. Various ideas on how to investigate the humans were suggested. Surveillance equipment disguised as indigenous wildlife, in particular insect or avian varieties was the most popular and feasible option. This option however was still limited by our own incomplete knowledge of the local ecosystem, something which had not been considered an information priority up to that point and could have easily expose our investigation.

A more radical suggestion came from **(Identity protected)** and the R&D division. The blueprints draw up for a 'human suit' would allow an agent, albeit one of diminutive stature, to move among the humans as one of their own in a self-contained vehicle. Unfortunately, the cost assessment, ongoing technical and comfort issues combined with lack of information regarding human behaviour and social graces meant that the idea was quickly rejected. **(Identity protected)** had to be sedated on being informed of the decision.

The solution to these challenges surprisingly came from humanity itself. A number of human governments (in the fact that there was more than a one was a matter of deep interest) chose to set up Extraterrestrial Tourist Zones or E.T Zones as they became more commonly known, shortly after the conclusion of the Relay 314 incident/First Contact War. The STG leadership decided that an agent would be sent in under cover of plain sight. To maintain the illusion and limit the risks of sensitive information falling into unknown hands a relatively junior operative was sent in posing as a student from Sur'kesh University. The following is his testimonial.

 **Operation Log- Day One**

Operative Solus reporting. Have successfully landed on Human Home world, some signs of heavy security on shuttle and at Roswell Landing Site but seemed to be general rather than hunting down specific threats. Also, seemed to be observing other Humans as often as my fellow passengers and myself why? Fear of anti alien backlash or merely paranoia? Not sure, fortunately all equipment for surveillance and self-defence got through Human security without problems, prepared for any eventuality.

Flight crew of shuttle welcomed us aboard, seemed to be as they appeared. Professional in their manner and very polite, although some also distracted by Asari passengers. Appears humans are susceptible to Asari, will investigate further should opportunity present itself.

Should note that while this is personal first contact with Humans have encountered the species indirectly. Previous contact limited to cultural festival held on Citadel. Saw one of their films, designed to unnerve viewers. Despite questionable biology of the 'Alien' use of fear still worked effectively on some audience members. Several theories why Humans create media designed to scare; will attempt to find conclusive evidence.

Flight comfortable, food and drink provided on board, scanned thoroughly, no sign of tampering or poisoning. Drink alcoholic in nature, mixture called 'Cocktail', name origin unknown. Particular cocktail blend given was called a 'Pina Colada', strange name but very pleasant, will attempt to steal recipe. Food mixture of plant and animal with smaller plants added for flavour. Enquired what the ingredients were, told meat was aquatic in origin known locally as Salmon. Apparently considered a relatively upmarket foodstuff, humans seem eager to be welcoming, although the steward said he would only give the meal four out of five. When I asked how a meal could be assessed numerically he looked confused, at least believed it was confusion, as though as he had never thought about it, curious.

Once landed decided that disguise too formal, needed to blend in more. Found out from nearby merchant Human tourists wear 'Hawaiian shirts'. These garments, designed to cover torso and upper arms have very colourful, plant life patterns on them and helps distinguish Humans on holiday from those who are not. Bought blue and green one, seemed appropriate for Earth. Price seemed reasonable though the use of physical money made me oddly reluctant to see it bartered away, cyber money far easier to spend without concern, though this may just be personal reaction.

Unfortunately attempt to blend in seemed to have opposite effect on Humans, perhaps Salarian in local costume too much of a contrast? Either way lesson learned. Reverted back to standard clothes, with hindsight Human merchant may not have been best source of information.

Will continue report from Hotel.

 **Assessment-**

Although relieved that operative had arrived safely and undetected handlers felt it necessary to send a curt reminder to Agent Solus that he was supposed to be posing as tourist, not actually being one.

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	6. That Time of Year

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"What do you think?"

"I think we are in serious trouble."

The two men stared out the window of their conference room. The focus of their concern was the department store opposite. The not particularly friendly rivalry between the two retailers was always bad and now it was that time of year.

That time when every single company was relentlessly gouging, cajoling and emotionally blackmailing as many people as possible into wasting hard earned money in an empty effort to fill their meaningless lives with useless unwanted gifts and stuffing themselves with excessive amounts of overcooked turkey.

In other words, it was Christmas.

The two men continued to watch as a second fifty foot Norwegian Spruce was carefully placed next to the main entrance. The first was already standing and a small army of people were decorating it with carefully chosen, colour co-ordinated decorations. In the windows were displays of Father Christmas', Snowmen and a life size Nativity Scene, all in handcrafted wood.

"They've gone full traditional," grumbled the older man, glass of scotch in hand and several nearly full bottles reassuringly close by.

"It's the smart move," he continued in a grudging tone. "Only a year since the uncertainty of the war and our introduction to the 'brave new galaxy' people want the reassurance that some things don't change." He drained his glass and moved for a refill.

"How do we respond?"

The other man, Jennings had said nothing for a while. He looked down at his papers checking and rechecking his calculations.

"Well we can't afford to match them, even if we had the time."

"Obliviously"

"Then we need to take the risk. Go in the opposite direction, a bold new vision of Christmas for a bright new age!"

The executive necked his drink, mulling over his subordinates' proposal, it could go badly wrong but there again doing a smaller, cheaper, imitation of their rivals would only guarantee defeat in that most important of annual retail battles.

"Alright, get your plans in order. I want the pitch ready in twenty four hours!"

11111

Xellyn had greatly enjoyed his last few months on earth. He loved his English Literature and Drama course and the social life on campus had been exhilarating, if a little exhausting. Even his down time he had been immersed in classic human activities, although he was still smarting about his defeat. He would get revenge on that damned Hanar if took him twenty re-matches. Sadly, though trampling people with Carthaginian War Elephants was not his biggest concern right now.

Xellyn had come face to face with the unavoidable truth of virtually every student; he was running out of money. He had tried to be careful but he was a growing boy who liked good food and plenty of it, and that was not including the drinking. His family had very reluctantly gone along with his plan to study on Earth but he seriously doubted he could get away with asking for more money, again.

Fortunately, he was not alone.

His flatmate and fellow drama student, a hyperactive Asari maiden called Galleora, had also been looking for extra funds, and sure enough one evening she came bounding into the kitchen with huge grin waving a piece of paper in his face.

"I've found the perfect job! For both of us! See? Non humans wanted! In the city! And best of all it'll be great practice for our course!"

Xellyn would have liked to ask what this job actually was but getting a word in when Galleora was excited was impossible.

"Only thing is the deadlines today... so we better get moving!"

Xellyn was promptly pushed out the door.

11111

 _Three days later..._

"He, He, He, your costume is so silly!" giggled Galleora.

Xellyn would like to have responded but he was trying to control his chronic stage fright, it was the same with every production and it seemed this job was no different.

"Though I suppose mine is just as strange," she continued looking at herself in the mirror, "These things are really uncomfortable," pointing to her large fake ears that had been rather securely attached to her head. "I don't know how humans manage them, why don't they have a completely internal auditory system like a normal species?"

Xellyn didn't hear any this. He was sure he'd forget his lines.

"I also asked if my skirt was meant to be this short but apparently it's 'for the fathers'. Not that I mind that of course."

He felt like he was about to throw up.

"What odd customs these humans have, although I do like the idea of getting presents every year!"

She turned to look at him.

"Hey, don't be nervous! We still have plenty of ti-"

"We're opening the doors, places everyone!"

Xellyn gulped but Galleora patted him on the shoulder and they stepped out behind the curtain.

They found themselves surrounded by multicoloured lights, fake snow and a small crowd of people. The banner above them read;

Have an out of this world Holliday!

Xellyn took a deep breath...

 **"** **With seasonal cheer: Ho, Ho, Ho, Merry Christmas."**

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 **"** **With despair: that was the worst performance I've ever done."**

Naturally his Asari friend was the eternal optimist.

"Oh it wasn't that bad!"

 **"** **With depressed frustration: half the children burst into tears."**

"Mr Jennings says that happens every time. That's why I had that sack of confectionary, to keep them nice and quiet."

 **"** **With resignation: and the other half just stared at me."**

"Well you are the first ever Elcor Santa. They were bound to be surprised. That was the point."

 **"** **With grim foresight: after that performance I will probably be the last."**

"Oh come on if we were that bad we would already have been fired. Besides, you had at least one fan."

Xellyn looked at the piece of paper he had been given just before closing time. It showed a large grey blob in the centre with red scribbles around it and rough red triangle on top of the blob. At the top in large, unconnected letters, it said 'Merry Christmas Elephant Santa'. Just beneath it in smaller, considerably neater handwriting, it said 'Sorry she means Elcor'. In bottom corner it was signed Sally, aged five.

 **"** **With attempted happiness; that is something I suppose."**

"You see? You got a present as well!"

 **"** **With Confusion: As well? What did you get?"**

"A few phone numbers," there was saucy look on her face. "It seems my short skirt attracts mothers and fathers. I might see if I can keep this elf costume, it works wonders."

The Elcor shook his head.

 **"** **In a tone of friendly banter: you are insatiable."**

"Hey, I'm an Asari Maiden. There are stereotypes about us that must be upheld, and I'm more than happy to do my part."

 **"** **With Deadpan Insinuation: I'm sure you are.**

At this point Mr Jennings poked his head through the door, he was smiling.

"Excellent work both of you. A shaky start but we have people talking, so much so that the local news wants to do apiece tomorrow. Well done and be here same time tomorrow."

As they packed up Galleora could not stop smiling.

"See I told you that it would work out! Now let's go and spend our hard earned cash! Unless you have any more worries?"

 **"** **With Concern: Well now that you mention it this fake beard seems to be stuck, and it is very itchy."**

11111

"Well how did we do?"

Jennings could smile at the figures.

"Sales up 10% over last year, and we outstripped our 'friends' across the road in both customers and profits. The media coverage had been even better; we've been getting orders from across Human and Citadel space since mid December."

The manager smiled, toasting an unexpected victory, repeatedly.

"Excellent, though next year we could easily do better with a little more planning. Any chance we could get that Elcor back?"

"I'm afraid not sir, I asked but he's planning to focus on acting. Xellyn said that he wanted to try some Shakespeare."

11111


	7. Inconspicuous Part Two

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 **Investigation process concluded.**

 **Result: Innocent.**

 **Reminder: In future do not forget passwords. Careless typing costs time.**

 **Re-Accessing Special Tasks Group File Archive...**

 **Access successful.**

 **Please search for a file.**

 **Searching...**

 **File located. Clearance level required- MODERATE**

 **Password Required**

 **N**P*******1**

 **Password Accepted.**

 **Opening File...**

 **Operation Log- Day Two**

Operative Solus reporting.

First, apologies for irreverent nature of last report will try to stay on topic in future.

Arrived at hotel via a hired, four wheeled vehicle known as a 'car'. It seems anti gravity element zero powered transportation has yet take off, so to speak, amongst Humans, although I hypothesise that this technology will be embraced as they have been by every other society. When mentioned this to driver however he seemed worried, not sure why.

Reached resort after exceedingly long journey, thankfully had Omi Tool to begin casual information gathering. My driver noted my restless state and remarked that passengers were often 'bouncing off the walls' during such lengthy journeys, interesting expression for hyperactivity, and accurate description of many of my nephews. Could also admittedly describe myself at that point, evidently humans are more accepting of such slow transportation. Continued discussion by asking my driver why The Roswell Space Port had been constructed when it was in such a remote location, especially after I found nearly three dozen suitable sites en route to the Tijuana 'E.T Zone' (to use local colloquialism) which I was my destination, used natural skill and STG training to casually question if the remote location was due to security concerns.

Response surprising, apparently Roswell had long history of 'alien contact' and numerous conspiracies theories around it. Based on this reputation alone the site was selected for a Space Port by Government of Nation State. Will investigate further on whether all Humans are this illogical.

( **Point of Clarification-** The STG has no knowledge of any First Contact that may or may not have taken place at Roswell, honestly.)

Arrived at Tijuana as Sun was setting, Hotel along the seashore, view pleasant. Hotel ranked as 'five star', reason humans seem to rank things in stars one to five completely unknown, hypothesise cultural origins. Still gratified to know humans providing best services to visitors; seem anxious to make good impression to wider galaxy. If so, is it eagerness to integrate? Or perhaps lull us into false sense of security? Primary objective is of course to discover this. Again promise not to let tourist persona get in the way.

Found bar in Hotel, well stocked with bewildering variety of alcohol, thankfully the Pina Colada is well known concoction and I have sent recipe back with report. Ingredients are plentiful and should be easily accessed through trade deal. Also tried something called 'Tequila Slammer', like Ryncol only palatable. The Human serving me, or 'Barman' then asked if I was a student. I replied yes, admittedly unsure why he was asking. The barman then asked if I any identification to prove this. Had my identity been compromised? As I passed my mostly real student card to him I discreetly prepared my silenced pistol and, as a last resort, a suicide pill in case of attempted capture. He looked, moved his shoulder blades up and down in a mystifying gesture and said;

"Students get 20% off."

On a personal note, I heartily endorse this policy.

( **Note of warning to all operatives-** Agents Solus' actions, reports and waste of financial resources would under any other circumstance result in immediate termination of contract... and termination in general. It is only because of subsequent actions that his career and his person survived. Following Agent Solus' methods will not end well.)

Woke up several hours later with moderate headache, time considered early by human standards, who sleep for around eight hours per twenty four hour day-night cycle of Earth, terrible a waste of time in my view. Given something called 'black coffee' by passing staff, bitter taste but caffeine effective counter measure to hang... headache. Do not advise Salarians drink this otherwise, others species find us too fast already.

Humans on holiday seem to enjoy laying on beaches, having skin slightly burned by the star they orbit seems to be fashionable. Personally, that seemed even more wasteful than their sleep patterns, no matter, decided to amuse myself by wondering the beach and collecting seashells, for scientific analysis later on. This cover allowed my discreet hacking into human governments and other institutions.

First, analysis of Human military, security of their 'internet' archives noticeably stronger than civilian versions, took almost three minutes to breach. Primarily, no sign of any aggressive plans, they have amassed their fleets only in defence since the ceasefire was signed. All offensive plans are rudimentary contingency plans, made during Relay 314 incident, most of them based on ludicrously bad information, understandable given the nature of their First Contact but amusing reading all the same, could make good entertainment films in future. New plans are slowly being constructed but hypothetical only. Humans generally seem, according to their numerous opinion polls and other, admittedly anecdotal evidence, unwilling to restart the war as long as given fair peace.

There is another major consideration.

Humans are not yet truly unified. Though the Human's System Alliance is the face of Humanity's expansion into Space, on Earth Humans are still divided into tribes, or 'Nation-States' to give them their official names. This does seem to be changing; differences between humans suddenly seem insignificant in the face of 'alien' contact. However, local governments seem to be clawing on to power, though seeing as how majority of political systems rely on democratic elections this strategy will have mixed success depending on numerous local, global and galactic factors. A lot of political leadership in turmoil; first contact has turned, to use human term, 'the world upside down' (though how a sphere can be upside down has yet to be explained) some holding onto power and tradition out of desperation. Others have joined new System Alliance Parliament, normal politician motives, some genuine principles but mostly ambition and pragmatism.

To further investigate human politics conducted minor field test.

Uncovered evidence of financial corruption of three politicians in three different human nations **(Names and Nations withheld for security and diplomatic reasons)**. One was removed from office and prosecuted. One received a public reprimand but kept power. The third escaped and media criticism was censored. Human society has many political systems and even more opinion on how they work, and how they should work. And all groups in flux since First Contact, suspect it will take years to steady themselves.

These are of course only official organisations. Numerous unofficial groups calling for Human Defence or Human Expansion have appeared throughout the Human Dominions. Some are religious cults, others political groups and a few are paramilitary. Most are of no significant danger, as long as Humans not provoked into desperation. One group, known as Cerberus, **(Details withheld for continuing analysis)** could be a problem, recommend further investigation.

Conclusion on politics; Human division could be exploited easily but results could be unpredictable, suggest intervention only as a last resort or in most extreme circumstances.

Although have advised upon non-intervention found one exception; the Human Nation known as North Korea. Please note, should not to be confused with South Korea, who seem, aside from their bizarre music tastes, to be perfectly rational (by Human Standards anyway). Propose the activation of protocol-

 **The following passage is marked as completely irrelevant and has therefore been deleted from this record. Any connection these deleted records might have had to the mass immolation of the North Korean leadership by one of its own Missiles that inexplicably launched three days after Agent Solus' report was submitted has been entirely dismissed as typical STG conspiracy theory nonsense.**

With that final matter, I will now sign off. Will continue holi- mission as directed, have enclosed recipes for Human Cuisine, should be popular, also photo album for Tourist Board usage.

Final thoughts on Humanity; mostly harmless.

Agent Solus signing off.

 **STG Post Mission Addendum** \- Operation considered successful. Useful information on Humans discovered without detection. Agent Solus considered highly unorthodox but effective Field Operative. Agent Solus will be considered for future assignments, after through Psychiatric testing.

 **This condensed report has been placed in the STG Classified Archive. Any mention of this report to anyone without sufficient clearance will result in a tragic accident. You have been warned. We are watching.**

 **We are always watching.**

11111


End file.
